A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(105)

“Red?” Another demanded. “Why red?”

Hades’ smile grew, and he looked down at Persephone, his hand settled on her waist. She imagined he did not like this attention, but he was doing well under the scrutiny.

“I think I began to favor the color when Persephone wore it at the Olympian Gala.”

She blushed—she couldn’t help it. That night had been the night she’d given in to her desire for him and in the aftermath, she’d felt life for the first time—a faint heartbeat in the world around her.

A few people sighed longingly while some scoffed.

“Who would have thought my brother to be so sentimental?” The question came from Poseidon who stood nearly halfway across the room. He wore an aqua blue suit, his hair was thrust back into a wave of blond and corkscrew-like horns jutted from his head. On his arm was a woman Persephone knew to be Amphitrite. She was beautiful, regal, with bright red hair and a delicate face. She clung to Poseidon and Persephone could not tell if it was from devotion or fear of his wandering eye.

Once Poseidon spoke, he offered a laugh, devoid of any humor, and drank from his glass.

“Ignore him,” Hermes said. “He’s had too much ambrosia.”

“Do not make excuses for him,” Hades said. “Poseidon is always an ass.”

“Brother!” Boomed another voice and Persephone cringed as Zeus’s large frame barreled through the crowd. He was dressed in a light blue chiton that clasped over one shoulder, leaving part of his chest exposed. His shoulder-length hair and full beard were dark in color but threaded through with silver. Persephone could not help thinking that his boisterous manner was all an act of deception.

Beneath the surface of this god was something dark. “And gorgeous Persephone. So glad you could make it.”

“I was under the impression we did not have a choice,” Persephone said.

“You’re rubbing off on her, brother,” Zeus laughed, jabbing Hades in the side. His eyes ignited, angry by the touch. “Why wouldn’t you come? This is your engagement feast, after all!”

Persephone thought that was ironic, given their quiet welcome.

“Then that must mean we have your blessing,” Persephone said. “To marry.”

Again, Zeus laughed. “That is not for me to decide, dear. It is my oracle who will decide.”

“Don’t call me dear,” Persephone said.

“It is only a word. I mean no offense.”

“I don’t care what you intended,” Persephone countered. “The word offends me.”

Stark silence stretched between all the gods, and then Zeus laughed. “Hades, your plaything is far too sensitive.”

There was a blur as Hades’ hand move to grip Zeus by the neck. The whole room went silent.

Hermes grasped Persephone’s arm, ready to pull her away the second these two went to battle.

“What did you call my fiancée?” Hades asked.

Then Persephone saw it—the look she’d been waiting to see. The truth of Zeus's nature beneath the facade. His eyes darkened, burning with a light so fierce and ancient, she felt fear in the very depths of her soul. The jovial expression he usually maintained melted into something evil—darkening the hollows of his cheeks and the space beneath his eyes.

“Careful, Hades, I still rule your fate.”

“Wrong, brother. Apologize.”

A few more seconds ticked by and Persephone did not think Zeus would cave. He seemed more like the kind of god who would go to war over a few words than what really mattered—the death and destruction her mother was wrecking on the world below.

But after a few moments, the God of Thunder cleared his throat.

“Persephone,” he said. “Forgive me.”

She did not, but Hades released his throat.

Zeus regained his composure easily, his rage melting away into his usually jovial expression. He even laughed, energetic and full. “Let us feast!”



***

Dinner was held in a banquet hall adjacent to the porch. A large, horizontal table rose above the rest on the far side of the room at which most of the Olympians were already seated.

Persephone looked at Hades.

“It appears we will not be sitting together,” she said.

“How so?”

She nodded toward the front of the room.

“I am not an Olympian.”

“Being one is overrated,” he said. “I shall sit with you. Wherever you’d like.”

“Won’t that make Zeus angry?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to marry me?” Persephone asked. Making Zeus mad didn’t seem like the best way to gain his blessing.

“Darling, I will marry you despite what Zeus says.”

Persephone did not doubt that, but she did have a question.

“What does he do when he does not bless a marriage?”

“He arranges a marriage for the woman,” Hades said.

Persephone ground her teeth and Hades placed his hand on the small of her back, directing her to a chair at one of the round tables on the floor. He her sit and then took his place beside her. There were two others at the table Hades had chosen—a man and woman. They were young and looked similar, like siblings—their hair curled in the same pattern, golden in color, and their green eyes were wide.